Reyna's Anniversary Part 1 (Patreon)

Hello Darlings, 

We've prepped and created the bones of our story. Now we need to put the meat and nerves on it. Below is the first section of the story, and then you'll have a chance to vote on what happens. I'll do my best to post something up each day from here until the end of the month, and then the plan is that we'll have a fresh story for Halloween. In the future, I'll just post the sections and the poll for your options. 

***

Grace didn’t around as the door opened to her office.”Uno minuto!” she hollered over her shoulder. She kept sorting through a stack of papers. Or rather, one of many stacks of papers. It was a receipt for Mrs. Gonzales. 

“Absolutely,” said the woman. Her voice was thick, rich, but accented like all of Grace’s clients. But there was something else in it. Sultry. That’s the word. 

Grace turned around. Her mouth went dry. The woman was in tall, just over six feet with her high pumps. She wore a slim red dress that barely the heights of her thighs and the depths of her cleavage. She looked like a stripper but somehow … classier? That didn’t sound right. Her face was etched in thin lines like royalty. She looked around the cluttered office disapprovingly, like Grace’s mother or employer. Grace tucked a stray hand behind her ear and smoothed out her skirt. She didn’t want to make a bad impression. 

But why? 

“Take your time,” said the woman. She made a shooing motion. Grace nodded (why did she nod?) and turned, looking for the dang receipt. She felt the stranger’s eyes on the back of her neck and the heat running down her neck to her back. Where the heck was the receipt? Mrs. Gonzeles had paid her in chicken, most of her clients paid her in favors or food (none of them could afford an immigration lawyer, no matter how badly they needed one), but the IRS didn’t believe that you got paid in chicken and enchiladas. They wanted receipts. 

Grace tried to take a deep breath to calm herself. She glanced behind her and saw the stranger looking around the office. She wasn’t on her phone or reading something. Her full attention was on the crowded and chaotic office. This space was a haven in the community, a place where people felt safe and had their most stressful problems solved. But in this woman’s eyes, it felt like a shack, like she was some dingy backwater lawyer in Hicksville. 

She slowly brought her eyes to rest on Grace’s. She smirked softly, and Grace turned back around. For a moment, an impossible moment, it seemed that her eyes had glowed or glimmered. They were a soft amber, almost a gold or yellow. 

She redoubled her efforts. How did this look? Her “organization system” was a vague idea of which genre of client belonged to which of three boxes. No wonder she was being audited. This was a nightmare. It was one thing to look like an incompetent lawyer, but when you see no assistant and an office that looked like Hurricane Maria stayed for tea and biscuits, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence. 

There! 

Grace grabbed the receipt and stuffed it into a folder and turned around all in one motion. She tried to wrangle that dang stray hair again and met the stranger’s eyes. The damn golden eyes. 

“Hello,” she said quickly. “How can I help you?” 

The stranger broke eye contact and looked around the office. “Can you?” 

“Um … yes?” 

Why was that phrased as a question? Dang it! 

“Are you Ms. Laurence?” 

“Yes. Yes. That’s me.” Grace smoothed out her skirt again. Did she not look like a lawyer? She extended one hand nervously. “Grace Laurance, attorney at law. I specialize in -” 

“Immigration,” said the stranger. She looked at the extended hand and paused. Then slowly - was it reluctantly? - she took Grace’s hand and shook it. 

Grace laughed. Nervous habit. Dang it. “What’s your name?” 

“You may call me Reyna,” said the woman. She let go of Grace’s hand and looked for something to wipe it on. Was it sweaty? “Do you have a towel or tissue?” asked Reyna. 

“One moment,” said Grace. 

She scampered out of the room and rounded the corner into the bathroom. She grabbed a tissue but paused before leaving. She turned on the light and closed the door behind her. She needed to get it together. 

She looked at herself, trying to see what Reyna saw when she walked into the office. 

***

What does she see in the mirror?